Cerulean
by xoxoVenomousVenus
Summary: In which Maya is a paint-snob, and Josh enjoys teasing her a little more than he should. Drabble.


Please note that this is a short one-shot, and was written around the time girl meets tell tale tot was released. And also, like my other one-shot, this is being reuploaded. As due to some strange circumstances, I deleted my previous account.

* * *

When he walks into the small studio, she's painting. Over the past few years, Josh has seen so many of her paintings that he's become familiar with her artistic style. Even though it's constantly evolving in the tiniest ways, there are many things that remain the same. As he peers over at her canvas, his dark eyebrows pull together with confusion, because this is definitely new.

The entire canvas is painted evenly in the exact same shade of blue.

Josh is hardly an expert on art, no matter how much Maya tells him about the color theory and expressionism. But he doesn't see anything particularly artistic about what is essentially a blue poster.

Which is unusual, as Maya's art always seems to have an intensity to it. The kind he can't describe, not in words, because something about each piece of art she makes just inspires feelings. He's always thought it's almost like magic, to be able to invoke someones emotions by just mixing some colors together. Maya's good at that, transcribing feelings into art, so he takes a closer look at her current painting.

Nope. Still just blue.

Frowning lightly, he turns his attention to her instead. The tiny blonde girl who has somehow found a way to rip open his life and place herself right in the center of everything. She's got her hair tied back, into this adorable messy makeshift ponytail. She's wearing the same jean overalls she always does, stained so completely with various dried paint from through-out the years they should look absolutely ridiculous, but they just add to the artistic look Maya wears so naturally.

He knows she knows he's there. There's no way she doesn't, he hasn't been quiet. Josh is really the only one who comes by her actual studio without any warning. Even Riley knows better than to interfere with Maya's "Personal Art Time" without a heads up.

Josh, on the other hand, happens to be of the knowledge that by bringing Maya special doughnuts from a bakery about four blocks too far for her to get them herself, you are welcomed into that personal art time happily. ( he holds onto this particular fact, coveting it as if it were something precious. Because really, it is. Knowing something about the Hart girl that Riley doesn't is a rarity indeed. )

He's brought said doughnuts, and places them carefully on the small desk she's got set up. Her entire studio is small, really. With tiny windows on the walls, which are covered entirely in this white layer along with the floor to keep any paint from ever getting onto anything important, the entire place feels cramped. To him at least. Maya loves it, and he figures that means she loves having something that is so completely hers.

The first question out of his mouth as he leans against the desk is, "Why are you painting the whole thing blue like that?"

"It's cerulean, Josh, not blue." Her response comes quickly, and she rolls her eyes at him as if he's somehow at fault for not knowing the difference between blue and blue.

He scoffs, because the snobby artist persona is actually kind of cute on her and it annoys him, "It looks like blue to me."

"Cerulean is a shade of blue. But it's not blue." the tone she uses is as if she's explaining something to a child. Josh puffs his chest a little.

Looking at the nineteen-year-old in front of him, he replies with no real malice in his words, "Well excuse me for not memorizing every color shade in existence."

Turning her head to look at him, a sweet - and false - smile lights up her face, "You're excused. Try not to doubt my genius again."

Somehow, because he can't remember doing it, he's now standing next to her. He tries not to think about how naturally he gravitates towards her, "Looks like someone's feeling extra arrogant today."

"Yeah, it seems like it. Did someone compliment you or something today? Because your ego is filling this whole room,"

Call him what you like, but his favorite moments with Maya will always be the ones where they can carelessly tease each other. No one else has ever challenged his wit the way she does, and it's exciting. He thinks she feels the same way, but he's never found the right time to ask.

"I think you're confused. Because it's certainly not my ego that's suffocating us."

"Well, my ego is rightfully large. I can tell the difference between blue and cerulean."

He takes a long look at the painting, fighting a laugh as he teases, "I think your crazy. That's definitely just blue."

Maya doesn't respond, at least, not verbally. She simply turns her whole body towards him, hand on the brush soaked with blue - cerulean - and grins at him. There's something predatory about the spark in her eyes, and he finds himself shifting his weight just a little. He's known her long enough to know that though she's a good two heads shorter than him the fear she can inspire is rightfully earned, so he braces himself for whatever she's going to do. Then, Maya does something that is so completely like her it's almost shocking but isn't quite - she flicks paint at him.

He stares.

She giggles.

"Are you serious right now?" he asks after a moment, incredulous.

"I'm always serious about art, Uncle Boing."

He groans at the nickname more than anything, because it continues to remind him that he should not be feeling the way he does about Maya. He still remembers when she was just a kid. Three years isn't really that much of a difference, not anymore at least, but it was when she had feelings for him. However, to his knowledge, as far as she was concerned those feelings were long forgotten.

Josh tries not to dwell on it.

When the blonde just laughs at his noise of complaint, he finds himself eyeing the red next to her.

Oh. Oh, yes.

Before he can really think it through, he's retaliating against her by dipping his hand in her bucket of paint and throwing it at her.

The bright color hits against her skin, her hair, and those damn overalls as well.

Her eyes widen, and those pretty pink lips hang open in surprise. "Did you just do that?"

"Do what? Throw red paint at you? Yes."

"Crimson, Josh. Not red."she corrects seriously.

He hits her with more paint in response, and that's all the encouragement either of them need to begin a full-out paint war. Colors fly, hitting against the white paper protecting the studios walls. They both weave through the room, attempting to avoid the paint being flung at them. The air is filled with paint, mocking war cries, and laughter.

By the time they're finished, they are both completely covered in splotches of red and blue, and Josh can't find it in himself to mourn his clothing. He wasn't wearing anything that nice anyway.

As they stand there, chests heaving from effort, Josh's eyes follow Maya's to her canvas, which now has red slashed over the blue. He considers apologizing, but she beats him to it, "It looks better now. I was kind of just painting for the sake of painting, but this looks like actual art now."

It's probably a sign of how much she's influenced him over the years when he can't help but teasing, "Looks like you're not the only artist now. Move over, Hart, there's a new talent coming through."

Predictably, she rolls her eyes and shoves him with her shoulder, "Uh-huh. Considering you couldn't tell the difference between crimson and red, I'm not threatened."

He only gives a cerulean stained grin in response, and they begin a fit of embarrassingly sincere laughter.

Maya stops laughing first, but there's a smile on her crimson splattered lips, "You're paying for all the paint we just used."

A response pops into his head, and he knows this is his chance. It's something he can pass off as teasing if it doesn't go over well, anyway.  
Josh leans down, hovering over her face, nervous but refusing to show it "Sounds like a first date to me,"

Her response is a crimson smile, "You've got a weird idea about dates then, but I'm still going to hold you to that."

Suddenly he can breath again, "I'm counting on it," and he tries not to be overexcited about the fact that yes, Maya had definitely just agreed to go on a date him. And he had some confidence in his ability to convince her to agree to a second date. Preferably where he's not buying her art supplies.

Maya grips the collar of his shirt, apparently impatient, "I was serious about teaching you all things art-related, Matthews," she pauses to grin, looking at him with her eyes gleaming in excitement, "First lesson, cerulean and crimson make a very nice purple."

If he didn't love her cockiness so much he thinks it might actually be infuriating.

But it's not, so he just grins impishly, "I think I'll need a demonstration, Ms. Hart."

Josh later finds out that she's right, not that he's particularly surprised. The two colors do make a rather pleasant purple.

* * *

I may or may not be a little addicted to this pairing. If you liked this, I have another oneshot posted already. Though it is much longer, as this was just a little drabble I couldn't get out of my head. This was literally written in about thirty minutes, so I'm very sorry if it was absolutely awful. I just couldn't stop thinking about it.

For updates on my writing, follow me on tumblr ( xoxovenomousvenus )


End file.
